The Price of Admission
by Todash
Summary: Post-war story. Things have become awkward between B.J. and Hawkeye after an impulsive confession. Slash content.


**The Price of Admission****  
**  
An awkward silence had descended on them, so Hawkeye said, a little tentatively, "Would it be easier for you if I didn't show up at these reunions?"

B.J., who'd been watching the softball game in the distance (or, more likely, looking anywhere that wasn't at Hawkeye), snapped his head around to face his friend, his expression one of shock. "Hell no!" he said forcefully, and it sounded genuine. "_Of_ _course_ I want you to come to the reunions. Shit, it wouldn't be a reunion without you."

Hawkeye nodded. "OK. Just asking. Because, you know, this feels… pretty damn uncomfortable. I'm sorry."

B.J. gave a dismissive wave of his hand. "We'll get past it. We'll be fine."

Belying his words, he turned his gaze away from Hawkeye again, looking in the opposite direction, presumably at the softball game. The red team (captained by Klinger) vs. the green team (captained by Margaret)… with various and sundry family members… and what appeared to be very few rules. And even less talent. Normally B.J. would be playing on one of the teams, but today he'd opted out. He said he was feeling a little under the weather, but Hawkeye wasn't buying.

What he was probably feeling was unease, and it was all Hawkeye's fault.

The last time the gang had gotten together, about six months before in Manhattan, they'd all had a blast. Lots of laughter, nonstop chatter, good times. It'd been one of the best weekends of Hawkeye's life… and because he'd been so filled with joy, on such a natural high, he had opened his mouth and confessed something he hadn't really intended to ever confess.

He'd gone to B.J.'s hotel room their last morning in New York, just before everyone departed for home, and he'd sat on the bed and spilled his guts. "B.J., I'm in love with you," he'd started out, and then he heard himself rambling, heard himself doing some kind of giddy riff on "let me count the ways," but it wasn't meant to be funny and sure enough, B.J. wasn't laughing. But B.J. also wasn't particularly happy to be hearing this revelation come out of his best friend's mouth, and that fact became more and more evident as Hawkeye talked on. Eventually he realized he was making a complete ass of himself and he stopped in mid-sentence, his face growing hot, and he said, as he stood up and moved to the door, toward an escape, "I'm sorry. Forget I ever said anything—"

"Hawkeye," B.J. said, reaching out, but Hawkeye was still bent on retreating. "Wait, don't go. Let's talk about this—"

"Never mind," Hawkeye said, his hand on the doorknob, "I'd really appreciate it, Beej, if you'd just forget I said anything. I didn't come in here this morning. Can we just pretend?"

He'd bolted from the room then, and when they said goodbye later that morning, they did so stiffly, in front of the others, with nothing more said about Hawkeye's confession.

B.J. phoned him the next day, to make sure he was OK, to apologize for the clumsy way they'd parted company after such a great weekend, and Hawkeye said something like, please Beej, that was my fault, forget it. And then they talked for a little while, but it was a difficult conversation filled with lots of nothing.

Letters had been exchanged since then… this is what Erin's been up to, this is how things are going at work… but nothing at all about sticky subjects like unrequited feelings or forbidden love.

Now it was the first reunion since that crazy one, the one Hawkeye wished he could take back, because he'd changed his relationship with B.J. forever, by saying five little words… well, and a whole bunch of other words after that. If only he'd kept his mouth shut. If only he'd kept his inappropriate feelings to himself. What exactly had he hoped to achieve by telling B.J., anyway? Some kind of fairy-tale ending?

Now, as they sat at the picnic table in the park, away from the rest of the gang, with the softball game playing out in the distance, Hawkeye tried again to apologize. "I'm so sorry, Beej. I screwed everything up, didn't I?" He waited for B.J. to look at him again, and then he gestured between them. "I screwed _us_ up."

"No," B.J. said, shaking his head. "Like I said, we'll be fine."

"Beej, you're finding it tough to even look at me."

"Hawk," he said, moving closer to his friend on the bench, which was a good sign, especially if he was doing it subconsciously, "I promise you, nothing has changed between us."

"I wish I could believe you."

B.J. shrugged. "So things are a little awkward right now. But they won't be for long. We're best friends… we will always be best friends."

"I shouldn't have told you… what I told you," Hawkeye said lamely.

"No, I'm glad you did. I wouldn't want you to feel like you needed to keep something like that to yourself."

Hawkeye barked out a laugh. "Oh right. You're just _thrilled_ to know, aren't you?"

"Honestly, I want my best friend to feel like he can tell me anything. That's part of what it means to be a best friend."

Hawkeye stared at B.J.'s face and was relieved to see that he wasn't turning away anymore, finding other places to look. "You're being awfully decent about this whole thing."

B.J.'s mouth curved into a smile, and Hawkeye tried not to think about how he'd fallen in love with that smile a lifetime ago… tried not to think about how many nights he'd gone to sleep picturing that killer B.J. Hunnicutt smile… that beautiful face. "Hey," B.J. said in a soothing voice, "why wouldn't I be?"

Hawkeye couldn't quite manage a smile in return, but he did nod his head, hoping against hope they were making their way through the muddiest part of this horrible hole he'd thrown them into. If only he could undo the damage… go back to that day and start over again. It'd been such a disastrous decision. B.J. Hunnicutt was happily married, loyal, committed, devoted. The ultimate family man. Hawkeye had no idea why he ever imagined his words could change that reality.

An impossible dream.

"Anyway," B.J. was saying now, putting a hand on Hawkeye's shoulder (also a good sign, the physical contact… Hawkeye would take anything positive he could get), "I just know that you're going to be fine. Not only will _we_ be fine, as friends… but _you'll_ be fine. You're going to find somebody to love and settle down with. Somebody to have a family with and grow old with. Someday you're going to find the perfect person, Hawk. I just know it." He withdrew his hand then and stood up from the picnic table, gesturing over at the softball game. "C'mon, let's head over there and watch."

Hawkeye nodded, stood, and followed his friend, but his mind was spinning with B.J.'s words. _Someday you're going to find the perfect person, Hawk. I just know it._

Tears sprang to his eyes suddenly, without warning. It didn't ring true to him because it _wasn't_ true. There would be no perfect person in the future… someday.

The perfect person was right here in front of him… and walking away.


End file.
